The glorious green of a surprisingly wet Spring, which was astounding in its bounty to my garden and my heart, has departed. Every morning, as I walked through the yard, coffee in hand and dog at foot, I thought “The shoe of summer is going to drop with a big old stomp at some point.” And it certainly has.
As I lie flat on the floor, imitating all my cats, I realize they have the right idea. Summer is not to be trifled with. And only the young or very determined have the stamina to go out and dance about in it. I prefer a cool tile floor or its equivalent and a good book. I have officially declared myself on vacation. Pantyhose are in the drawer and shorts and sandals the order of the day. I find myself more and more declaring that the pantyhose should just STAY in the drawer and I should contemplate spending the rest of my life mascara-free.
But the Universe has a wicked sense of irony, and the moment I say STOP it says GO. As in, “Hey! How about you do a Kickstarter campaign, learn all you can about social media, and raise money for the next CD?” Which came to pass, starting almost a year ago, August 15th, to be exact! And what an adventure it turned out to be. Hardest work ever, with the greatest series of rewards in making connections with loving generous people, some known, many not.
And an end product I am very proud of. As I resurrected all these old ( and some new) songs from my cluttered cassette closet (yes, I still have cassettes! Do you?), I revisited my past and in a way rediscovered my purpose. I would often chastise myself for not being a really busy songwriter, learning how to write NEW songs in a NEW style for NEW people. I wandered about wearing a guilt sweater for not being more prolific or contemporary. Then I listened to some of my older songs, from way back in the days of youth and passion, and realized that what I am is a storyteller, a follower an old tradition. And what, I ask , is wrong with that? A friend I spoke to this morning said to me, “Your songs demand to be listened to. They are not just ambient music.” Thank you, Joel, for that reminder.
So now, my folk songs are in the world one more time…the musical children finally out of the closet. And they are thriving. Amazon listed my CD at #1 for a day. How amazing is that? In these times that go whizzing by, a day is a long time. And who knows what tomorrow will bring? An upcoming birthday with a 0 in it! Somehow, I have yet to be frightened by the concept. Despite the sometimes-creaky knees, I still feel 30-ish. The numbers mean nothing. (Speak to me on August 10th. See how I feel THEN!)
I find the daily challenge for me is to keep Pollyanna on my shoulder, to face every day with anticipatory joy and hope in the face of a world that seems more daunting every day. I remind myself that cynicism is for lazy. Hope is HARD WORK!
And I reach out to sources of inspiration… my beloved song writing partner Michele Brourman, my adorable husband of 45 years (how can that be????), my dear pal and patient manager for the past 30 years, Garry George, Annie LaMott, whose books always make me sit down and think. At the moment her book “Help! Thanks! Wow!” is my bible. Michele and I wrote a song based on her book. I share the lyrics with you below. It’s a pretty cool tune. Maybe it is the title for the NEXT CD!
HELP…THANKS…WOW
When there ‘s a storm on my horizon
When I see lightning cross my bow
There are three small prayers that get me through…
HELP. THANKS. WOW.

Help… My heart is breaking.
Help…I’ve lost my way.
Help…a friend is dying and I don’t know what to say.
Help…the bank’s foreclosing, and my child is ill.
Help…my devils call me and I have lost my will.
Sometimes it’s a scream, sometimes just a yelp,
But in my darkest hour the prayer I send is “Help”.
Thanks for this bright morning…for this gentle rain.
Someone found my wallet and my dog is out of pain.
Thanks for all the music…the books I’ve yet to read.
The little extra something I can give a friend in need.
Though inmates run the madhouse and crooks control the banks,
For every day and every friend I send a prayer of “Thanks”.
Everything’s a mystery, miraculous and odd.
And those who say they have the answers lie.
We put our faith in reason, or whoever we call God.
But everyone at some point has offered up this cry
Wow! You’re in remission.
Wow, this bread is good!
Wow! Look at this garden in my neighborhood!
Wow! Somebody loves me, though I don’t know why.
Wow! Look at that sunset screaming through the sky.
Every day’s a wonder I wander through somehow.
And the words that keep my world afloat
As I steer my rocking boat
With gratitude in every note are…

HELP. THANKS. WOW.
Thank you Michele Brourman. Thank you Annie LaMott!

And thank you all for visiting! I wish you a joyous ride on this carousel of summertime! Choose the Horse of Hope!
Love, Amanda

Fall is finally, truly here.

I can see it in the forests and hills of Nashville where I am this very moment recording my new CD, “VOICES”…my first CD in 8 years!

What an astounding ride! I’m with my dear friend Fred Mollin who has been my producer and pal for many years. He has produced such amazing folks as Johnny Mathis and Jimmy Webb and even Miley Cyrus! And now me!!

This time we are recording some of my favorite songs that have never seen the light of day or echoed in anyone’s years but mine. Working in Nashville with these astounding musicians and engineers and deep-fried everything has been such a treat. It’s also nice to be somewhere green and moist for a change! (Let’s not even talk about the barbecue)!

Somehow I have to prepare myself to be able to get back into my concert togs for my trip to London in November where I will be singing with the divine Ann Hampton Callaway and my musical partner in crime, Michele Brourman.

(Will I be able to fit into my black silk show pants, ladies and gentlemen???)

The summer was truly astounding! Spending time in the green, green Berkshires at Barrington Stage singing with Michele and Ann Hampton was such a treat .I have to admit I was intimidated to be on the same stage with the greatest jazz vocalist of our time, dear Ann Hampton. You’d think by now I would be over being star struck, especially with as good a pal as Ann. But the more I think of it ,God forbid we should get over being star struck! Anytime we can be in a world of wonder we should try to stay there as long as we can. And learn!

August was an amazing month as well, when I gathered my courage together and decided to go on the adventure known as Kick starter, to raise the funds for this new CD. Many a sleepless night I suffered as I tried to get my confidence up…to commit to the 21st-century and social media. And I am so glad I did.

I had no expectations of anyone becoming a contributor, so everyone who did was a new and joyful surprise. Just to spend an entire month in 24 hour gratitude is a fabulous meditation. I hope I can continue the practice.

I have to tell you about an afternoon in the studio in Nashville last week. We were recording a gospel choir that was going to sing behind one of my new songs, a song I had written in remembrance of my beloved mother- in- law Margaret, who was one of my best friends.

Six absolutely wonderful singers came in to the small recording studio and stood in the recording area while I stood in the booth and listened in awe as they sang the most beautiful music, blending and weaving these gorgeous tones all around my words. I’ve never felt anything quite like it. I was speechless at the wonder of it all. Being bathed in such pure sound, I feel as if my soul has been washed really, really clean.

Blessings on all their heads!

And when the session was over, Fred told them that I had written the song “The Rose”. They didn’t know that. They were so loving to me. And one of the wonderful men, Jason I think his name was, put his arm around my shoulders and sang it to me ala James Ingram. And I was toast! Happy, happy toast!

So now all the recording is done on my part. The songs have been sent to a wonderful arranger named Matt Macauley who is going to put luscious strings on a few of the tunes. And I am headed home and happily so!

So now we watch the madness that is the circus of American politics as it comes steamrolling across the land. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, which I’m sure is the emotional state of at least three quarters of the country. I can only hope that bringing to the surface all the pain and anger and confusion of this last election cycle will, as it were, pull the scab off, and let the sun in to heal all of us. I try to remember that we are all human beings, all family, no matter our differing opinions and we should have sympathy and respect for each other. Sometimes that’s hard to do. But I sure am trying.

CULTURE CORNER

Visual: “WEST WORLD” on SHOWTIME. WOW!
Michael Crichton would be proud!

Literary: “SLADE HOUSE” by David Mitchell.
Another winner by the author of CLOUD ATLAS.

Musical: SAME TRAILER, DIFFERENT PARK”-Kasey Musgraves-
The girl can write a story!

I wish for you a lovely October, with many pumpkins and golden leaves falling softly upon your shoulders.

Here’s an Autumn poem for you.

INDIAN SUMMER

Fooled again

By the teasing taste of autumn
The first crisp night
The last fig falling
The sound of football
Through the weekend windows

As frisking dogs are walked
And sweaters softly shaken
From their slumber
In closets sweet with cedar
As the last tee shirt is folded
And the pool is covered over
And the tongue is set for cider

The sun reappears
In his Fahrenheit fury
Like the face of the lover
You thought you
Buried deeply
In the camphor 
And the lilac
Of your heart

Indian summer
Fooled again

And don’t forget to vote!

Love,
Amanda

Well, the season has finally arrived. June is waving a fond farewell, taking with her the glorious morning mists so spuriously called JUNE GLOOM around here. I guess that means we are about to experience JULY FRY. Get out your flip flops!

It has been a while since my last report. Spring was just squeaking in. And a lovely on it was too. A joyous reunion with the amazing Ann Hampton Callaway, the 21st Century’s answer to Ella Fitzgerald. We (Michele Brourman and I) met at her home in the Hudson River Valley and gorged on music for 72 hours straight putting together a duo concert, our first in many years.

I love working with her, writing with her, listening to her amazing gifts…and all in pajamas! I remember one time a few years back, when she was in pajamas at my house, handing her a lyric. She immediately marched out to my music studio, coffee in hand, sat down at the piano, and proceeded to create a gorgeous song out of it (called ALMOST) in one pass! We will be performing it in this concert for the Barrington Stage in Pittsfield MA, end of July! Yippee!

And then to London for two weeks at the divine boite, Crazy Coq’s. We filled the room, killed the people, made pigs of ourselves at all the divine Indian restaurants. We were even taken on a private tour of Eton College AND Windsor Castle! (Nice little weekend getaway the Queen has there!)

I do believe if I had to live in a city again, it would have to be London. SO exciting…one foot in the past, one foot definitely planted in the future!

Then to Scotland to visit our wonderful pals Desmond Carrington (the voice of BBC2 radio for the past 50 years!) and his partner in music and life, David Aylott, to celebrate Desmond’s 90th birthday. AND the fact that he commissioned me, Michele B, and my honey George to record several Broadway show tunes for him to play throughout the summer on his program! SO we will be warbling through the airwaves of Britain throughout the summer. (I modestly say my SEND IN THE CLOWNS is pretty damned wonderful.)

Then home to hearth, home, and American politics. Two out of three were wonderful. The third is an astounding and appalling circus. (When I was in London I kept introducing myself to people as Canadian.) What a strange world it is these days. I remember long ago, in the 60’s…yes, I remember the 60’s…when everyone was predicting the dawning of the Age of Aquarius and saying the world would be going through troubling times on the way to enlightenment, I had no idea they would be THIS troubling. I find each morning’s challenge is to wake in gratitude and NOT succumb to the devil’s whisper of cynicism and despair. I think THAT is the work of a grown up, which I am trying to become.

So now I am facing the prospect of recording my next CD (MUCH NEEDED) through the auspices of crowd funding…joining the ranks of Indie Gogo and Kickstarter. It is a big old challenge for me. To learn the whole process, and then to implement, after choosing the right source. The songs I know already and am very excited to bring out of the closet and into the world. Some are brand new, some are old, all are my favorite stories. They deserve to be heard. So if you see me knocking on your computer screen, don’t be alarmed. Or obligated. Just know I am attempting to bring a little more musical light into the world.

Here are my culture corner picks:

Music: The score of HAMILTON (an absolute work of genius! I bow. I bow.)
Book: ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE (gorgeous!)
I thought I would share with you my poem for July, based on the truly hilarious event that is the Ojai 4th of July Parade.

THE CHAIRS OF SUMMER *
It starts with just one chair
Alone…aloof…
Astride a busy corner
By a bus stop
Under a dusty oak

From Costco or Target,
Viet Nam or Taiwan
Worn white plastic
Ragged rainbow webbed
A solitary chair appears
Suddenly, surprisingly
Like the face of Mary
In a taco
A miracle of
The mundane
Tomorrow it will multiply
Magically into four…
Fourteen…forty-five
By week’s end
Four hundred plus
Bound together by bungee cords
Of anticipation

Waiting for the large pink people
Waving small bright flags
Who will plant themselves
Like sunburned petunias
Listening for that first squeal
Of high school clarinet
That rat-a-tat of
Snare drum
The buzz of fifty
Kindergarten kazoos
Flinging John Phillip Sousa
To the summer skies.
The fire truck will pass by

The flatbed filled
With princesses
Representing various
Vegetables
Pious folk on hay bales
With banjos
A float or two of bunting
And bed sheets
All will wave and cheer
Rise and go

Leaving the chairs
To sit in silence
As the sun dips
Behind the crisping hill
The sky explodes above
The football field
Then one by four by forty
They will disappear
Back to garages, closets
Invisibility
The annual migration
Complete

Until next July
Calls them out once more
To unveil their
True selves,
Their sacred
Purpose
To be
The chairs
Of summer

Have a safe and happy summer!
Love, Amanda

I LOVE THIS PICTURE!